


The Second Time: A Romance in Two Parts

by abriata



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abriata/pseuds/abriata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam Lambert’s days of tabloid notoriety are behind him if he wants to keep his record contract. To complete his newly reformed image, his management wants him to settle down and get married. Adam refuses to even consider the idea until he meets his prospective husband, Kris Allen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Time: A Romance in Two Parts

**Author's Note:**

>  Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/harlequinkradam/profile)[**harlequinkradam**](http://community.livejournal.com/harlequinkradam/)  challenge.

Personally, Adam doesn't think it's that bad. Sure, it's maybe a little embarrassing, but all press is good press, right?

"No. No, no, no." Mark's been repeating himself for what seems like the past forever. He never seems to get bored.

"It's not that bad," he says again.

"Yes, it is that bad. You got caught for the fifth time this _month_!" Mark's voice is going alarmingly shrill. Adam tilts his head at him. "That's more than once a week!"

Adam says, "So, it's okay so long as it's only once a week."

"No!" Mark yells, and oh good, they're back to this again. "No, no, no."

"I'm pretty sure I don't have time for this," Adam says after another couple of minutes spent waiting for Mark's heart to give out from the strain. "I have to be somewhere." He actually knows he doesn't. Mark had his assistants clear his calendar for this so-called strategy meeting. They'd both done it, too, the little traitors. See if he signed their damn paychecks.

"You have as much time for me as I say you do," Mark snaps. "When your label says jump, you say 'how high?'"

"Yeah, I'm not so much into that physical exercise crap," Adam says.

"Adam!" Mark yells.

"Yes, I get it," Adam says. "Bad dog."

Mark looks at him for a minute. "You should've _gotten it_ a couple months ago."

Adam winces. That particular night had not been his most auspicious. There hadn't even been that much alcohol involved – a couple mixers, some pot, and a little instant gratification. Personally, he thinks a little public sex once in a while does the soul good. The label, however, hadn't agreed. "I've behaved since then!" he says.

"Three months is not long enough to forgive and forget." Mark waves the tabloid around threateningly. "And then you just started up again a month ago," he picks up the warning letter from some of the execs, "and everything led to _this_."

"We weren't even doing anything," Adam tries.

"That's not what it looks like."

"You're going to get old before your time," Adam tells him. "And it was one friendly little grope."

"Regardless, the label wants it to stop. All of it, everything. You've got a tour coming up, you can't afford to piss off—"

"Anybody, right? The whole damn world must like me. So no drinking, no smoking, no fucking—" Adam stands up.

Mark raises his voice to yell over him. "And to ensure your good behavior and reinforce your good image, you're getting married."

Adam yelps, "What?"

Which is how he finds himself whining to his mother two weeks later. "This can't be legal."

"Is he cute? I expect you to bring him home, you know," she says, which is about as helpful as the time she let him grow his hair all the way to his shoulders before telling him it made him look homeless and ugly.

Chelsea taps the top of his head. "Come on, the driver's here."

"Go away," Adam tells her, waving an arm around to defend himself. She has nails, and she _uses_ them.

"Is that Jessie?" his mom asks. "Put her on."  "No!" Adam says to them both, since Chelsea's already making grabby hands. "It's Chelsea. The one you don't like."

Chelsea sticks her tongue out at him. His mom says, "I like both of them. Though I'd still like to know where you got the idea that you're important enough to warrant two personal assistants."

"Thanks, Mom," Adam says wryly.

Finally successful in her bid for the phone, Chelsea says, "Sorry, Mrs. Lambert. Yes, this is Chelsea." She thumps Adam. He pinches her. The studio's receptionist is probably going to try to have them thrown out soon. "He only has two assistants because neither of us could put up with him full-time. We each only have three days a week with him this way."

Adam snorts, loud enough his mother can probably hear it.

Chelsea tugs on his arm, pointing to the door. "Yes, Mrs. Lambert, I promise I'll make him send you pictures and updates," while she rolls her eyes.

Adam shakes his head, but she's already saying goodbye. "We're going to meet him now. Here's hoping it goes well. Talk to you soon."

"You will not be sending her anything," Adam says.

"Nope, but you will." She grins at him. "Come on, this could be fun. A taste of the committed life."

"You really think so?" Adam asks plaintively. "But what if he's ugly?"

"He won't be ugly. Gum? It's for publicity purposes, it has to be believable. Besides, you gave them so many criteria, it's not like whoever found him didn't have guidelines of what you go for."

Adam doubts it. It only took them two weeks to find someone, how good can the guy be? "But what if you're wrong?" he complains.

"Then pray," she advises, blowing a bubble. That's the limit of her sympathy for the day. She drags him into the conference room once the car pulls up to headquarters and then leaves him like her ass is on fire. Adam's the first one there, probably a strategic move on someone's part – this way he won't be able to flee if the guy's awful. He glares resentfully at the door.

There's a loud scuffling noise and the other door – which Adam swears is a closet, what the hell – shuts quickly. There's a tiny, adorable little thing standing in front of it. Adam wants to adopt him immediately, despite the way his face is all scrunched up, glaring unattractively and looking about as happy as Adam's felt about this whole thing.

He says, "That was rude."

Adam says, "Did you just come out of a closet?"

"No," he says. "Are you Adam?" He sounds like he wants to ask the state of Adam's mental health or something.

"Yeah," Adam says. "You are?"

"The ceremonial sacrifice," he says darkly. Adam raises an eyebrow. "I'm Kris," he adds, like that's supposed to explain anything.

"Nice to meet you?" Adam hazards.

"I'm your fiancé," Kris finishes, and then they stare at each other until the managers start piling in.

Adam ignores everything they say, which is basically something along the lines of _hey guys, this is Adam, this is Kris, please don’t kill each other, oh look at the time we've got to go_. They take Kris off with them when the leave and all in all, Adam thinks it was a pretty painless first meeting.

Chelsea greets him in the lobby going, "Well? Well? Well?"

"His name is Kris," Adam tells her, "and he's adorable."

She squeals obligingly and Mark comes in while they're still scheming.

"I like him," Adam says.

"You do?" Mark asks, concerned. "So you'll cooperate."

"Cooperate?" Adam says. "He could be the bitchiest little thing in the world and I'd still do him."

"Um," Mark says, but Adam's already got his phone out to call his mom.

He doesn't have much to tell her, so they speculate and Adam puts up with what sounds suspiciously like tentative wedding plans. Adam's not sure on the logistics himself – are they engaged and then married? Engaged and then a public break up after the tour? Mark says the official plan hasn't been entirely ironed out, but Chelsea starts getting names and numbers from Mark and then starts planning.

\---

"I can't believe you got me moved in with you," Kris says from Adam's couch the next Tuesday morning. "We haven't even technically had our first date yet and we're already living together. Won't this be even worse for your image than everything else?"

"It'll keep things interesting. More importantly," Adam yawns and sprawls next to him, tired. "Why are you here at nine in the morning?"

"Because by this time normal people have begun their day," Kris says. "And I thought I had actual work today, but apparently I was mistaken. These moving people showed up at my house at six thirty and now everything I own is over here."

"Wait," Adam says, waking up a little. "Do you work for the label?"

"Yeah," Kris says.

"Are you on my team?" Adam asks, interested. "Because that makes this whole thing a little immoral."

"A little more so, you mean. And you know what they say about prostitution and the oldest profession," Kris shrugs.

"Oh my god, you are. How have I not met you before?" Adam asks.

"No, I'm not on your team," Kris says. "I'm a sound technician. While I get paid for doing this I'm technically on their payroll as your new personal assistant. So, on paper, you have three. Congratulations."

"So you're on my personal team _now_ ," Adam says. "I'm paying you."

"What is it with you and this prostitution thing?" Kris asks.

"It's a kink," Adam admits.

Kris says, "If it's alright by you, I'd like to hold off on things like that and learn the basics first, like your favorite color? We have to get to know each other eventually."

"Favorite color is black," Adam says. He leans closer. "Now, tell me, what's your stance on sex on the first date?"

"Very subtle," Kris says. "No."

"What do you mean, no?" Adam demands.

"It's a negative term, usually meaning stop or don't even think about it," Kris says flatly.

"Sometimes it means yes?" Adam tries.

Kris crosses his arms. "No."

"Okay," Adam tries again. "Then what's your type?"

"Female," Kris says.

"No, seriously," Adam says.

"No, seriously," Kris says.

\---

Adam kicks Mark's chair until he hangs up.

"That was important, you know," Mark says.

" _This_ is important," Adam informs him. "You got me engaged to a straight guy."

"So?" Mark says. "It's not like you're actually going to sleep with him."

"I was going to _try_ ," Adam says peevishly, and leaves when Mark starts laughing.

Jessie's only a little more helpful.

"They engaged me to a _straight_ guy!" Adam wails. "They match all the other criteria and they miss _that_?"

"Did you actually specify it?" Jessie asks, bored and tapping away on her phone.

"I figured it went without saying," Adam says.

"I guess they thought it wasn't important, since he's not getting paid to actually sleep with you."

"He should be," Adam mutters unhappily. "It's one of the basic roles of the spouse. Ask anyone."

"Stop bitching," Jessie sighs.

"I like Chelsea more than you," Adam informs her. He really wishes Chelsea were here. She'd be appropriately sympathetic. She might even mean it.

Jessie gives him the finger. "Seriously, Adam. Get out of the goddamn car and go in to your fucking house. I don't want to sit out here all night."

"But he's there!" Adam says. He's been there all day, by himself. Probably went digging through all of Adam's personal belongings and everything.

"By your brilliant design," Jessie points out. "I still can't believe Chelsea let you do it. Now _go_."

And Adam respects his PAs enough to know when to listen, and this is absolutely one of the times, so he goes. He's just not happy about it.

Kris looks like he hasn't moved from the couch.

"How are you?" Adam asks suspiciously.

"Bored," Kris says. "Can I go home now?"

"No," Adam says stubbornly.

"Okay," Kris shrugs. "Whatever. Can you tell me where my room is?"

"Um," Adam says.

"I do have a room, right?" Kris says.

"I didn't think you'd be straight!" Adam thinks this is a perfectly suitable justification. He's not even sure any of the spare beds have sheets.

"But obviously you thought I'd be easy," Kris says, pissed.

"Don't take it personally?" Adam suggests weakly.

"I'm going to a hotel," Kris says.

Adam snarls at the front door when it shuts. There's probably an expense account all this is being billed to, and he probably reimburses it. Not fair.

\---

They meet the next day to discuss their back story or something. Adam's not interested until he's had coffee, and he's busy staring at the door, willing Chelsea to appear faster.

"So how are you two kids getting along?" Mark asks cheerfully.

Adam gives his best playing-nice expression. "Great."

"Awesome," Kris adds, in the worst display of lying talent Adam's ever seen. If their respective chairs were closer together he'd kick him.

Mark looks pained. "What's wrong?"

The two creative directors, or whatever they're called, shift in their seats. Mark said they're the ones who'll come up with the Kris-and-Adam crap they'll have to parrot.

"He's boring and repressed," Adam says.

"He's a stuck-up slut," Kris says.

"Hey, maybe they're both right," Chelsea says brightly, laughing. Adam worships her anyway, because she brought his _coffee_. "And it seems like they're on even ground."

Adam makes a face at her. Kris fidgets uncomfortably, like he's unsure what to do. Adam would feel sorry for him if he didn't hate him so much.

"Look, I think we need to work through this," the lady Adam's never met before says. "You've obviously gotten off on the wrong foot. Let's just talk about it."

"Yes," the man Adam's never met before agrees. "We just need some communication. Adam, why do you say Kris is boring and repressed?"

"Because he sat on a couch _all day_ and did nothing. He's also very rude." Chelsea snorts. Adam ignores her.

"And Kris, what problems have you had with Adam?"

"He called me a prostitute—"

"I did not. And it was a _joke_ ," Adam says.

"He moved me into his house—"

"It seemed _logical_ —" Kris glares at him and Adam shuts up.

"And he assumed I'd sleep with him."

Adam doesn't have anything to say to that one.

" _Adam_ ," Mark says, very disapproving.

"And I'm actually only here right now to tell you that I quit. Thanks for the opportunity," Kris smiles, and then the little bastard actually _walks out_ on them all.

Chelsea smacks the back of his head. "Did you have to be such a dick? Normally, you're so charming."

"It was all mostly an accident," Adam says. "He's just overly sensitive."

Mark glowers at him while the two people catch Kris and presumably talk him back into it, since he comes back a few minutes later, looking reluctant.

"We think you should both apologize and try to start over," the guy says.

"What are you, a relationship coach?" Kris asks.

Adam snorts in agreement.

"Try," the guy insists. "Begin something with good intentions and everything will be better."

Privately, because he has some tact, Adam thinks he sounds like a fortune cookie.

"Sounds good," Kris says. "Adam can go first."

Adam rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry I offended your archaic beliefs and I apologize for thinking you'd have a sense of humor."

"And I'm sorry for openly revealing what a bastard you are," Kris says sweetly.

Adam is totally up for this, but before he can open his mouth Mark slaps his hands onto his desk. "It would do you both well to remember you need each other." He glares around, and Adam's surprised to see Kris duck his head, too. "Now, the label rep will be here in twenty minutes. I suggest we let Beth and Evan explain how you two are going to convince everyone in the world that you're madly in love."

It actually goes well, which Chelsea attributes to Adam swallowing his pride and listening. Kris doesn't put up a fight at all, nodding in the appropriate places and even chiming in when necessary. Adam probably would've cooperated, too, but between Chelsea and Mark they know his day to day life and history well enough that it wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't been there at all. The label rep leaves happy, half-convinced herself that they really were involved.

The plan is to let the paparazzi find out as if it were a secret, and then to slowly leak details like some of Kris' old work records as an employee of the studio, which should be scandalous enough to keep anyone happy. They'll ignore it for a week or so after that, and then Adam and Kris are going to make a public announcement of their engagement. Adam puts in a vote that he should do the announcement himself, on the basis of Kris being a horrible liar, but that gets Kris up in arms about why, exactly, does Adam think he knows how good a liar Kris is, he's only known him for how many days, and Adam yells back about how it's his own damn reputation, thanks a lot, stay the fuck out of it, and Mark threatens to separate them like unruly three year olds.

From there they'll do interviews – most of which will be Adam or Adam-and-Kris, since everyone's pretty willing to bet nobody's going to want just the new, unknown boy toy, and even Kris seems relieved about that. They're still forcing him into all sorts of public communication coaching and everything, which makes Adam extremely pleased. He hopes Kris hates it as much as he did.

And finally, it turns out they don't have to get married. They're going to slowly grow apart over tour and split once it's over, or possibly right before the very end for an extra burst of publicity, the team hasn't decided yet. All in all, it's going to be a whirlwind romance that nobody will remember in a year.

The only flaw, it seems, is Kris' stance on photographical proof.

"I am not making out with him in public. Non-negotiable," Kris says again.

"It's just a little kissing. Grow up," Adam says, sighing.

"I'm worried you'll attack me," Kris tells. "You know, give an inch."

"Whatever," Adam says. "I promise not to jump you. Does that ease your fear of surprise gay sex?"

"I'm not worried about the sex," Kris says. "I'm worried about the STDs."

"Jesus, they are bad," Mark tells Chelsea.

"I know, right? It makes me want to get popcorn, even if just to make a point." She blows a bubble for emphasis.

"We can hear you, you know," Adam says.

Beth steps forward, trying to regain control. Apparently, she's the head of Adam's publicity team. He thinks he should've known who she was, except he's never listened to her or solicited her advice, so it's not all that surprising he didn't.

"Kris, you have to understand. Adam, being who he is, it wouldn’t be believable if there weren't _some_ pictures," she says. "What about a few carefully planned ones, right at the beginning, and—"

"No, never happening," Kris says. "Sorry. It can be Adam turning over a new leaf or anything. Maybe he can abstain from all public contact in order to prove how different this relationship is or something."

"You're an evil little bitch," Adam says, and he totally means it, because of course the publicists love that idea.

Kris looks pleased with himself.

\---

They ride home together in Kris' car. Chelsea took Adam's ride, said that since Kris drove himself Adam should go with him back to their house.

"My house," Adam said.

"I live there now, too," Kris said. "Ours."

So Adam's stuck in the passenger seat of the ugliest car he's ever seen.

"I practically built it myself, thanks," Kris says, insulted.

Adam stares at him. "How many years of your life did you waste doing that?"

"A couple months. One summer!" Kris says defensively.

"Right," Adam snorts. "And how many months before it _worked_?"

"A couple more, maybe," Kris says, smiling reluctantly.

Adam does not think this is cute, so he puts his sunglasses on to avoid giving Kris the wrong impression.

They're quiet for a long time, stuck in rush hour traffic in LA, which is only worse than regular traffic in that it takes four hours to get anywhere rather than three. Adam watches the people in the cars around them: it's fun to do, see who's arguing on their cell phones, doing make up, or even sometimes changing clothes, which is always the best.

Finally Kris clears his throat and says, "So, are we actually going to fight for the next six months?"

"Oh god," Adam says, "You're one of those people that can't stand to have anyone mad at them, aren't you?"

"No!" Kris says. "I just like a little civility, that's all."

Adam doesn't believe him. Still, he magnanimously says, "Truce, then. I won't be a bitch if you aren't."  "I've never been a bitch in my life," Kris mutters, then raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, deal."

Of course, then neither of them has any clue what to say, so Adam hazards, "Where are you from?" Anyone could guess he's not native.

"The south," Kris says.

"Yeah, I figured," Adam rolls his eyes. " _Where_?"

Kris winces. "Arkansas."

"Oh my _god_ ," Adam says, horrified.

"See? See!" Kris cries. "This is why I don’t tell people. You wouldn't believe how many jokes I've heard, and nobody ever takes me seriously once they know. It's not my fault where I was born!"

"Defensive much?" Adam asks. "I wasn't going to say anything." He totally was.

Kris makes a disbelieving noise.

"I wasn't! I get jokes, too. Anyone who actually grew up in California gets looks. It's a place you're supposed to come to, not from. Nobody ever believes me," Adam insists.

Kris says, "I would."

"What does _that_ mean?" Adam asks, outraged.

"Nothing," Kris says, laughing. "I swear."

"So," Adam rolls the idea around for a while, letting the sentence hang. He's never been congratulated for making good decisions, but in for a penny and all. "Since we're dating, want to go on a date?"

Kris looks over at him, probably trying to decide if he's trustworthy. Adam's tense, more worried about rejection than he's been in years. It's a distinctly unpleasant feeling.

"Okay," Kris says finally. "Where?"   
Adam's surprised. "I wasn't expecting you to agree!" he says.

"Fine," Kris says easily. "I can retract it."

"No, no," Adam says, waving his hands around. "I just don't have any ideas. You weren't supposed to agree!" he repeats.

"What do you normally do for fun?" Kris asks.

"Well," Adam says.

"Oh, wait, I remember," Kris laughs. Adam scowls at him. "I guess it's not a group activity, huh?"

"Maybe not where you come from," Adam says, because he can't resist.

"Sure it is," Kris rolls his eyes. "Just so long as it stays in the family."

Adam laughs despite himself. When he shakes his head and gives up trying to find an answer Kris looks triumphant. "That's so horrible," he finally says.

"It's what people honestly think, I swear," Kris says. "Or at least they make cracks about it enough that it might as well be. I've always wondered how blondes put up with it."

"I don't know," Adam says. "Ask Chelsea. She probably gets it all the time."

Kris gets a funny expression and Adam waits, counting in his head. "Come on, everyone gets to it. Say it."

"It's just," Kris says slowly, "Chelsea seems very sweet, and I guess she's good at her job, right? But she sort of _acts_ like California girls are supposed to, and—"

"That's the first thing Jessie said to her," Adam says happily. "Of course, Jessie's practically a genius, so she phrased it a bit better."

"Don't they hate each other?" Kris asks, fascinated.

"Nope," Adam grins. "Best friends. I think Chelsea's response was something like I know, right? And Jessie decided she liked her and that was that." He shakes his. "Don't let it fool you, though. It just means they're both evil."

"They don't always give you your way?" Kris asks sympathetically.

"No," Adam says mournfully, and Kris laughs at him.

The traffic opens up a little, finally, and they're home in fifteen minutes. Adam lets Kris wander around, poking into corners and messing with his sound system while he orders takeout. Kris doesn't venture upstairs, which is disappointing, but Adam figures he can work with it.

"Was it okay, getting a room last night?" Adam asks offhandedly.

Kris looks up from his perusal of Adam's music collection. He seems to think it's both too small and too limited. Adam's been biting back comments about snobbery for about five minutes. "Yeah," Kris says. "Plenty of hotels in LA."

"Do you still have your stuff there?"

"Nope," Kris says. "Management said I have to move in here."

"Good," Adam says, pleased. Kris rolls his eyes.

When the food comes Adam tries to draw Kris away, put in a movie, but he slaps Adam's hands away from the controls and keeps deriding Adam's taste in music.

Exasperated, Adam asks, "Okay, what do you like, then?"

Kris gets shifty. "Oh, I don't know," he says evasively, and then, "What movie did you want to watch?"

Adam's curious but Kris actually looks embarrassed, and besides, he's not sure his ego can take any more hits today, so he lets it go. Kris gives the movie five minutes before Adam gets a rant on his movie taste, too, like what, are all his preferences in popular culture crap? That segues into modern culture _in general_ , at which point Adam gives up and just sits back to listen.

Afterwards, Adam convinces Kris that it's okay to throw the leftovers away and then says, "I have a surprise for you!"

"Please, no," Kris says.

"What?" Adam asks, affronted.

"Is this going to involve anything embarrassing for one of us?" Kris asks cautiously.

"No," Adam says.   
"Okay," Kris says. "Proceed."

"You're very strange," Adam informs him. "Anyway, follow me."

He actually doesn't know which room Kris gets, since Jessie did it today while they were both out. Adam hopes she hadn't chosen a completely crap decorating scheme – his designer would kill him. So it looks a little ridiculous as they go down the hall, nudging open all four guest bedroom doors until he gets to the last one. It's the one furthest from his bedroom, a very good precaution, and it's also, Adam sees, the only other one with it's own in-suite bathroom. That was probably part of the decision, too. The bed set Jessie bought – to replace the ridiculously gorgeous, terribly uncomfortable bedspread the designer had chosen for all the rooms – is a pretty neutral navy blue, but Adam runs his hand over it and it's ridiculously high thread count and the softest thing he's ever felt. He suspects it may even be nicer than his, and he almost wishes he could've come up here and stolen it before telling Kris it was his.

"Oh," Kris says slowly. "My room?"

"Yeah," Adam says. "You like?"

"Yeah," Kris says, looking surprised about it. "It's cool."

It is pretty cool. It's not to Adam's taste, really, but Jessie did a good job making it look like a classy bachelor's room. There's some art deco stuff scattered in a couple of corners and the heavy, fancy furniture has been mostly replaced with modern, comfortable substitutes. It looks very much like Kris, surprisingly, though Adam realizes he may not be the best judge. He probably owes Jessie a raise now.

"Thank you," Kris says softly, touching the bed hesitantly. "It's – thanks."

Adam shrugs. "Jessie did it. She's amazing, like Chelsea. You can get her a soy latte or something if you want to thank her." He stands around awkwardly for another minute, but Kris is still looking around curiously so he goes to hide in his bedroom to avoid having to help carry boxes up.

\---

Evan, who is Beth's second-in-command or something, tells Kris at the end of the week that he and Adam have a date arranged for that night. Kris gets to pass it on.

"Aw, I didn't even know you liked me that way," Adam says.

Kris looks like it takes effort not to roll his eyes. "We have to go to this restaurant at this time and stay for however long. Should be boring."

"Thanks for your high opinions of my company," Adam says. "Do you actually know what restaurant at what time for how long, or are we going to guess?"

"Yes," Kris says, "I wrote it down. I just have to find the piece of paper."

Which is how they end up two hours late for their reservation. Adam volunteers to help Kris find it, mostly because he knows it'll give him a chance to be nosy, and while Kris goes digging around his room – his very messy room, oh my god, do you ever clean? You've only been here a couple of days, Adam says – Adam roots through piles of crap and unpacked boxes and drawers to see what he can learn about his new fiancé.

"I don't think it's in there," Kris says wryly.

Adam doesn't stop digging through the drawer. "You'd be surprised how much you can learn about a person from their underwear. Oh, what's this?"

He pulls out a letter addressed to _Kristopher Allen_. It's well-worn and probably a couple of years old, and very personal, judging from the way Kris yanks it out of his hands and snaps, "Nothing, and stay out of my crap."

Adam chooses to try to keep their fragile peace, so he says mildly, "See what you can learn? I just found out your real name is Kristopher. That's so precious."

"Shut up," Kris says darkly. He's blushing. "It's from an old girlfriend."

Debating what to go through next, Adam's vaguely irritated when Kris says, "Here it is!" and holds out a paper that's been folded into roughly the size of a ping-pong ball.

"Jeez," Adam says, while he takes five minutes to unfold the stupid thing.

"I squashed it into my pocket," Kris explains.

Adam's not sure how it got from his pocket to the back of the bathroom cabinet, but there are some things even he knows better than to ask. Instead he hums noncommittally until he sees the info Kris was given and then he practically shrieks. "Our reservation time's in fifteen minutes!"

"Okay?" Kris says.

"The restaurant, Kris," Adam explains. "Is about forty-five minutes away and requires formal attire, so we both have to change. Furthermore, we'll have to call a car, because I don't own one and I'm pretty sure they won't let yours on the block. No offence," he adds.

"None taken," Kris says wryly.

Adam gets on his phone for a driver while he tries to pick out clothes and give Kris instructions on what, exactly, constitutes formal attire and yes, Kris, fake leather shoes will do but _brown_ ones will not, especially with black pants, are you color blind? They're out of the house in about twenty minutes, which Adam knows is a personal record; he also knows he probably looks terrible. Kris doesn't even look harried.

Then the traffic sucks, like usual, except there's an accident, like usual, and then the lights are out on one of the streets, which isn't all that usual, and they're not at the restaurant until 9 o'clock and the maitre 'd is not, to put it lightly, very pleased to let them have a table. Fortunately, Adam's very good at getting what he wants, and they sit down very late, very hungry, and, in Kris' case, very appalled at Adam's negotiation skills.

"Seriously," Kris says. "You might've tried saying please."

Adam doesn't even glance up from the menu.

"Or even," Kris continues. "Explaining why we were late, apologizing, and asking when the next open slot was."

"Believe me," Adam says, still trying to decide whether the menu's really in French or some vague imitation that's deliberately been made more difficult to read, "my management would have killed me if I missed this. Probably you, too."

Their waiter shows up, of course, right when Adam has just successfully narrowed it down to two choices, so he makes Kris go first in order to buy time. Kris hasn't even looked at the menu, actually, so Adam's a little interested to see how he orders food when he doesn't know what the restaurant serves.

He says, "Steak, medium rare. And water, please."

Adam gapes at him when the waiter's left. "I didn't see steak on the menu anywhere!"

"And you speak French?" Kris asks politely.

"No," Adam admits. "But I try."

"Any vaguely fancy, non-vegetarian-only restaurant in LA serves steak. Order it like you know what you're doing and you'll get something basically edible," Adam's still making a face so Kris shrugs. "First thing I had to learn to survive in LA. Otherwise I would've starved during business dinners."

"That's brilliant," Adam says. "Think there's any vegetarian equivalent?"

Kris shrugs helplessly and Adam deflates. Kris suggests, "Maybe you can find one?" like he doesn't want Adam to lose hope. "I just don't end up at many vegetarian restaurants."

"That’s pretty impressive, living here," Adam says.

They find out the next day that nobody so much as noticed they were there. Adam holds that this is not their fault – how damn hard can it be for the paparazzi to be waiting where they're supposed to be waiting?

"You were _two hours_ late," Mark says.

Adam snorts. "Come on. These are the same breed of creatures that climb trees and break into houses, right? How could be late deter them?"

Mark sighs and gives up. "Just show up on time tomorrow, all right?"

"Maybe," Adam says. "Where are we going tomorrow?"

They're going to another restaurant. Kris makes faces at this one, since it's vegetarian, and Adam sympathizes and suggests they go somewhere else. The driver ends up weighing in when they can't decide and by the time they eat – "I'm starving. I can hear my stomach with my ears plugged," Kris whines – they're halfway across town and have completely forgotten about the publicity.

"This time you didn't even show up," Mark yells the next morning.

Kris is with Adam for this one – Mark seems to have given up on intimidating Adam and gone after the weaker of them. It's almost working, too, because Kris keeps cringing when Mark points at him.

"And not only that, but instead of leaking the story of your engagement you managed to spread more rumors about sleeping around," Mark says.

Kris looks at Adam. "Do you have a twin?"

"I wish," Adam says, depressed. "We drove around all night, I swear!" He says to Mark's scowl. "Kris and the driver can vouch for me, Jesus. And besides," he adds as an afterthought. "I'm engaged. I would never cheat."

"Okay," Mark says determinedly. "We're telling Beth to find you guys somewhere you'll have to be recognized. And Jessie's going to arrange your ride this time."

He kicks them out.

"Wow," Kris says. "Do you always get treated like a child?"  
 "Yep," Adam says cheerfully. "Kind of fun, huh?"

"No," Kris says evenly. "Not for those of us who aren't contrary, stubborn people."

"You totally thought it was fun," Adam says. "Do you want to get coffee?"

"I can't," Kris says. "I have to get back to work."

"Wait," Adam says, "You work here?" He makes a face as soon as he asks. Of course Kris works here, he said he's a sound tech. "Can I come with?"

"No," Kris says immediately. "I mean it. No way."

"Why not?" Adam asks. He is not afraid to whine.

"You'll get in the way," Kris says. "Don't start, you will, too."

"Are you even working with anyone today, or are you just mastering?" Adam asks curiously. "Usually you can tell if there's too many artists here, there's more people running around."

"No, not with anyone today," Kris voice gets a little high. He's looking shifty again, and the elevator's just opened to go up. Adam has to go down.

"So what do you actually do? What part of it?" Adam prods.

"Nothing!" Kris says.

"Kris," Adam says.

"Seriously," Kris says, and shuts the elevator doors in Adam's face.

"Oh, no," Adam says.

He is absolutely not above using his power, looks, and charm to get what he wants. He's also not above just asking Mark, "What studio is Kris in?"

Mark writes it on a piece of paper and holds it up, busy on the phone, so Adam gives him thumbs up and hightails it to the third floor.  There he hits a bit of a roadblock, because the sixty million year old receptionist will not unlock the doors for him.

"I'm just visiting!" Adam tries.

"I don't think so," she gives a little sniff and glares down her nose at him.

"Do you know who I am?" He throws out desperately.

"Don't know, don't care. I like these guys a lot more than I do your type, and you're not getting back there to bug them without their invitation, first," she nods with an air of finality.

"My type?" Adam asks skeptically.

"Famous people," she says dismissively. "All high and mighty and sticking their noses where they're not needed. Like they need your help with any of your music they're fixing."

Adam decides to switch tactics, shrugging. "Fine, I understand. Could I leave a message for one of them?"

She peers at him suspiciously. "What's their name, yours, and the message?"

Adam tries really hard not to laugh. He'd bet anything that she has no intention of passing it on. "It's for Kris Allen," he says, leaning forward conspiratorially, "and please just tell him that I will catch him one of these days."

She nods, haughty and not even pretending to write it down. "And you are?"

Adam smiles, nice and wide. "His fiancé," he says, and turns to go.

"Oh, oh, honey, wait there," she says, much friendlier. He turns back around. "Are you here to listen in?"

Cautiously, Adam says, "I'm here to do anything I can get away with."

She smiles conspiratorially. "Yes, Kris is very stubborn about letting people listen to his songs. I cannot believe he won't even let his fiancé listen. Stupid, shy boy. Come back here, I can sneak you in the corner."

Adam smiles. "Thank you so much. You're amazing."

"Uh huh," she says, "Now sit still and don't make a peep. They can hear you as well as you can hear them. And grab a card from my desk on your way out. If you ever need help wrangling him don't hesitate to give me a call."

She leaves to resume her surly guardian position and Adam drags a chair next to the designated door and preens. He's maybe half asleep by the time noise starts leaking from under the door. He doesn't notice it at first; it starts off with a slow guitar melody and drags in a couple of piano parts. The drums only hit halfway through, and that's when he actually sits up and listens, because it's _good_. He wants to hum along to parts of it, and normally he's not interested in instrumentals unless they're his own in-progress works but he wants to know who the artist is for this one, who they are and why he's never heard them before.

There's a couple more and Adam practically presses his ear to the door to listen. They're still heavily unfinished, levels unbalanced and some timing off here and there, but he doesn't think he's too wrong in guessing they'll be as good as the first ones when they're done. It's just way to early for them to be in production – they need a couple more run-throughs before they're ready. He waits just long enough after the last one to make sure there's not another one queued up before he barges on in.

Kris jumps, spinning around in his chair and yelping. Adam winces in sympathy; he knows from experience that the headphones hurt like a bitch when they're yanked off like that.

"Sorry," he says brightly. "I felt like visiting."

Surprise is chased by anger, and boy, is Kris pissed. Adam's taken aback; he's pretty sure Kris wasn't even this angry when they'd been bitching at each other. "Get out," Kris says flatly.

"No," Adam says.

Kris stands up and flails at him, but a door across the hall opens and a girl who just screams intern pops her head in. "Everything okay?"

"Yep," Adam says. "Everything's amazing."

She blushes at him. "You're – is Kris working on your songs?"

"Nope," Adam says. "I should be so lucky."   
"Oh, um," she says, confused like she thinks Adam's being sarcastic.

"We're engaged," Adam shares cheerfully, because it seems to be getting him everything else today.

Kris makes a strangled noise and the girl gets excited, bouncing up onto her toes and saying, "Oh, wow. Congratulations, I mean, I didn't even know Kris was dating—"

"Thanks, Jen," Kris says tightly, herding her out the door. Adam winks at her before he shuts it.

"How did you even get back here?" Kris asks, unhappy.

"I'm your fiancé," Adam says dismissively. "Nobody would dream of keeping us apart."

"See, this? This is why you're a terror. You use absolutely anything to your advantage," Kris says.

"Always," Adam says remorselessly. "By the way, you aren't a sound tech."

"Yes, I am," Kris says.

"No, you're not."

"I know my own title," Kris snaps.

"And I know music," Adam says stubbornly. "Those songs aren't anywhere near ready for production, you don't even have any vocal tracks, for fuck's sake, and no way will I believe they're all instrumentals."

Kris gets pale. "You're wrong."

"You're a writer!" Adam finishes.

"Please, shut up, Adam, please," Kris says.

"What?" Adam asks, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a ghostwriter," Kris says. "But you're not supposed to know."  
 "What?" Adam repeats blankly.

"I write songs and credit them to other people," Kris says reluctantly. "I'm not an actual songwriter."

"I know what a ghostwriter is," Adam says. "Why the fuck aren't I supposed to know?" Kris looks away, fidgeting. Adam grabs his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Come on, Kris."

Kris sighs. "Mark said you'd be pissed. I'm not getting paid extra for doing this with you. But in exchange, when it's over I get—" he trails off, waving his hand around in explanation.

"You get to be a credited writer," Adam fills in.

"Yeah," Kris says.

Adam steps back. "That's bullshit."

\---

Mark is not happy to see him back again. "Haven't you left yet?"

"I am about thirty seconds away from firing your ass," Adam says calmly.

Mark stares at him for a second and then apparently decides to take him seriously, because he sits up and focuses on Adam in a way that's only happened a couple of times before. "What's wrong?"

"Explain to me," Adam sits back in a chair, cocking his head at Mark, "just what, exactly, Kris' job is and what deal this studio made with him in exchange for doing this."

Mark blinks, as obvious admission as Adam's going to get. He says, "Kris is a sound technician. And he'll be promoted in exchange for helping you. It's an extension of his role as an employee of this label and of you, its client."

Adam snarls. "Kris is a writer who's not getting credit or paid for his music. How many others do you use like that?"

"I promise you, Adam, Kris knew exactly what his job entailed when we hired him. He was aware that it included some creative duties," Mark holds up a hand when Adam opens his mouth to yell some more. "Every studio does it. This is LA, Adam. Not everyone who can write can sell."

Taking a deep breath, Adam says, "Fine. But I'm changing the terms. When he's done with this, he gets signed to record one real album."

Mark says, "Adam, that's not—"

"Or we'll be going to a studio that will," Adam says, smiling.

Mark pauses for a moment, considering. He doesn't say anything for a long time and Adam asks, "Well?"

"Did you ever consider," Mark says carefully, "that maybe Kris doesn't want to record his own album."

Adam doesn't hesitate. "Then that's up to him, isn't it?"

Finally, Mark nods reluctantly. Adam waves and leaves, wondering what the backlash for this will be.

Jessie calls Adam late that afternoon. "Did you really threaten to leave the label?"

"Yep," Adam says, digging through the pantry. He needs more groceries soon.

"Mark can't have been happy." She sounds interested in the idea.

"Nope," Adam says. He gives up on his search and goes to flip channels instead. It's sort of weirdly quiet without Kris back yet.

"So Kris wants to record an album?" She asks.

"Don't know yet," and when she makes a questioning noise he says, "He doesn't get credit for his own music right now, and they said he could be credited if he does this, I said they had to sign him instead. That's basically it. Except would you call around, look for someone to sit in with Kris during his meeting?"

"Yeah. That sounds cool," she says. "I'm glad you decided you liked him."

"He's okay," Adam says, grinning. She hangs up on him.

Kris slams the door when he comes home.

"Hello!" Adam calls.

There's no answer, and Adam hears him go up the stairs. Confused, he sits for a moment, but when Kris doesn't come back down he has to go up instead. He finds him packing, which throws him a little. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Kris asks shortly. "This whole thing was a bad plan."

"Why?" Adam draws it out.

"You know," Kris stops, dropping a bag on the bed and turning around the glare at Adam. "I came out here and took crap sound jobs so I could make my own music. And I'm almost there, I really am, and one day some executive's admin comes in, tells me I'm cute, and asks me how good an actor I am. And I end up here. And I actually liked you, despite all first impressions."

"Okay?" Adam says. "What happened, did they do something? I warned Mark—"

"Do something?" Kris repeats. "I got a message right after you left that said I had to pack my stuff and take it out, and I have a meeting with one of the VPs or something tomorrow morning. HR is sitting in, too, which would've been the biggest hint that I'm going to be fired, except the note also said that the meeting was to _reevaluate my status within the corporation_."

Adam frowns. "That's not right."

"Oh, really? Where did you mean to put me? I mean, you could've just taken me away from writing if you really hated my music that much. Or you could've said something to me, or kept it to yourself and not ruined all my chances."

"Hey!" Adam says, indignant. "I didn't tell them to—"

"To fire me?" Kris snorts. "No, you probably just complained to Mark and they took it one step too far. They're good at that. But thanks so fucking much for—"

"Shut up!" Adam yells over him. He laughs a little. "I threatened to fire them if they kept taking advantage of you like that. The meeting's to sign you."

Kris stares at him, mouth open.

"You know, so you can record an album?" Adam says.

Kris continues to gape.

Getting worried, Adam says, "But Mark said that maybe you didn't want to, and if you don't you don't have to, it's just an option, because me, I would want—"

"I do!" Kris says, high and frantic. He stops, embarrassed. "I do."

"Okay," Adam says.

"I – Thank you," Kris says. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Adam says, grinning. "Though you're totally topping the list of most ungrateful people I've ever met. I don't think I've been yelled at like that since middle school. You have got talent at guilt tripping."

Kris flushes all the way down his neck. Adam watches interestedly. "Sorry," Kris says. "But thank you. I mean, I'm really sorry, I just – thank you."

Adam says, "If you don't stop being so polite I'm going to have to kiss you." Kris looks torn between manners and awestruck gratitude. Adam watches, amused, until he realizes Kris isn't going to make up his mind any time soon. Then he watches a little bit longer before taking pity on him. "You're going to have to call and tell them you can't make the meeting, though."

"What?" Kris asks, alarmed. "Of course I can."

"No, you can't," Adam corrects him. "Believe me, you do not want to start your career by letting them think you're a doormat. And besides, you need someone to come in who represents your best interests, and I can't go tomorrow morning."

"I don't think you should be there," Kris says. "I mean, I get what you mean, but I want to deal with it myself, or with whoever. You're way more important than I am, and if you're there it'll be weird."

"That almost made sense," Adam says. "But fine, I won't come. And Jessie will help you get a lawyer or somebody, and she'd be good to have there, too. She's good at arguing."

"Okay," Kris says, dazed. "Thank you."

Adam smiles. "Anything for my—"

"You say fiancé and you won't be getting a ring," Kris warns.

### Part Two

### 

Kris manages to get his meeting rescheduled for a week later. Adam gets back from a promo shoot the next afternoon and Kris is sprawled out on the floor in the sunbeam that's coming in from the window. "Bored?" Adam asks.

"It's weird not going in to work," Kris says. "I won't miss it, mostly, but it's weird. I have a whole week with nothing to do."

"It's just like a vacation," Adam says. "And you could start writing or editing what you already have for the album."

"But vacations, you know they're coming. This was unexpected. And I can't start writing – if I do, then the record contract will fall through or something," Kris says, rolling his head to look at Adam plaintively.

"Yeah," Adam says, because he gets the superstition. "Well, I promise I'll be home the next couple of days to help keep you busy."

"Yay," Kris says drily. "But we have that date tonight, right?"

"Ugh," Adam says. "As if, when the first two restaurants got nothing, trying again will work."

"Well, third time's the charm. And someone has to notice eventually." Kris blinks. "Right?"

Adam shrugs. "Well, they're going to notice when you come on tour with me, so yeah, eventually."

"I'm going on tour with you?" Kris asks curiously.

"Yep. And my band, obviously, and the dancers and the roadies and the—"

"Groupies," Kris mutters, snickering. Adam kicks at him.

\---

Nobody notices their third night out, either, and the publicists are throwing their hands up in defeat. So it's fitting, of course, that, all else failed, they get noticed while they're at the grocery store, in the cereal aisle, arguing whether generic foods are as good as brand names.

"You're already breaking kosher," Kris says. "So why does it matter if it's Rice Krispies or almost Rice Krispies?"

"Because it _does_ ," Adam insists. "Generic screams low class."

"Careful," Kris says, "your ego's showing again."

"I don't even _like_ Rice Krispies," Adam informs him.

Kris rolls his eyes. "Then shut up and keep your opinions to yourself. You don't get a say."

"It's my house," Adam says.

"It's my food," Kris says.

It takes them close to three hours to get everything, because Adam doesn't know where anything is – "How can you not know your own grocery store?" Kris asks while they ask a third employee for help finding the eggs. "It's not my grocery store," Adam says, "I do the sensible thing and have stuff delivered." – and Adam's more hungry leaving than he was going in. Kris won't even let them stop to pick up food, because in his world, having lots of groceries is a reason to not get take out.

Then they have to carry stuff in, and Kris gives Adam like, _three quarters_ of the bags all at once. The car squeals when Kris shuts the trunk.

"Can I buy you a new car?" Adam asks. "I'm buying you a new car."

"No," Kris says. "And since you're planning on buying one anyway, be warned that if you do I will make sure it's parked illegally and towed the first week."

"But yours is so old," Adam says.

"It still runs," Kris says, "and it's not your car."

Adam drops all the bags on the counter and ducks into the living room to avoid having to put them away. He hears Kris sigh and he knows he's going to be called back in and yelled at, but then his home phone goes off. Weird, since it's unlisted and everyone calls his cell anyway, but whatever. It takes him a good two minutes to find the damn thing, since it's not on the base.

"Hello?" Adam says cautiously.

"Rice Krispies," Chelsea snorts in his ear. "Oh my god, that is so embarrassing."

"What?" Adam says.

"Check your phone," she says cheerfully, and hangs up.

Kris asks, "Who was that?"

Adam shrugs and pulls out his phone. It's turned off; he probably sat on it wrong or something. There are fifteen messages waiting when it's on again, which is worse than your average day but not nearly as bad as the time he forgot mother's day and she sicced his whole team on him. He was getting disapproving phone calls for _weeks_.

The first message is from Beth. _Not how we wanted you noticed, but it's certainly convincing_. Attached is a link to a video of him and Kris arguing in the grocery store – whoever had taken it was a little creep, because it cuts in and out but follows them through a majority of the story. Adam snorts and hands it over to Kris.

"Seriously?" Kris says. "This is what they do with their time?"

"Oh, come on," Adam says. "Some kid out there is thrilled that they managed to put their camera phone to such good use."

"Whatever," Kris says, handing it back over.

\---

They wait the requisite week, laying low like they're hiding. Adam keeps catching Kris sneaking off to his room. He can hear him playing, the house isn't that sound proof, so he doesn't really get why Kris pretends he's not. He's not going to ask and risk pushing his luck, though.

By Wednesday he thinks he's going crazy – he spends all day running around finalizing tour plans and doing costumes and alternately getting yelled at and teased by his band members for not bringing Kris to meet them, and then he comes home and gets completely, if politely, ignored.

"Hey, Kris," Adam says, knocking on the door.

"What?" Kris yells back, and there's some knocking around and a faint twang as Kris puts his guitar away.  
 When he opens the door he's carrying the guitar case, and Adam looks down at it and says, "I've never seen your guitar."

"Not until the wedding night," Kris says.

Adam says, "Don't you think we're taking this joke a little too far?"

"Yes," Kris says, "But you started it."

"Put the guitar away," Adam says. He looks him over. "You'll do as you are, come on."

"Come on where?" Kris says, depositing the guitar gently on the bed.

"We're going to a club," Adam says. "And you're meeting my band members."

"I don't think so," Kris says.

"You'll like them," Adam promises.

"Will they like me?" Kris asks challengingly.

"If they know what's good for them," Adam says cheerfully. "And believe me, they do."

Of course, the first thing Tommy says is, "Oh, look at the cute little boy toy."

Kris smiles at him. "I didn't know the staff were allowed to say things like that."

Adam doesn't want to take a side, so he absolutely doesn't laugh, but Kris is completely right – Tommy's dressed in monochrome, and matches the club almost perfectly. He might as well be in uniform.

Tommy smiles back. "This coming from a glorified hooker."

"You weren't good enough for an upgrade, I guess?" Kris says.

"Okay," Adam says. Tommy's almost smiling, so that's as good a place to stop as any. Even if Tommy thinks it's fun, Adam's not sure how sensitive Kris actually is.

The other three are much more polite in their disdain. Kris mostly seems to shrug it off, except he doesn't say much until Monte decides he's going to pretend to be a human being and talk to him. They get along, of course.

"Really?" Tommy hisses in Adam's ear.

"We're going to go to the bathroom now," Adam announces loudly, and pulls Tommy out after him.

"Be nice," he tells him, squashed into a corner near the bar. Kris and Monte have their heads bent close together, abandoned by everyone else.

"But really?" Tommy says. "That is the straightest gay fiancé I've ever seen. How is this believable? It'll take one live interview and then—"

"He's going to be fed all his lines, I think," Adam says. He actually doesn't know, but it sounds like a good idea, now that he thinks about it.

"Right, and what about the fact that he's so not your type?"

"He's exactly my type," Adam says. "They got that down perfect."

"Except he's _straight_ ," Tommy says skeptically.

"So are you, doesn't stop people," Adam says. "And besides, he's sweet."

"Yes, okay," Tommy says reluctantly, "But that's not a check in the believable column."

"Thanks," Adam says drily. "Now would you stop trying to eat him alive?"

" _I'm_ eating him alive," Tommy mutters, "How the hell do you expect him to survive the media, then?"

They bring back drinks. Adam makes Tommy carry Kris', hoping one of them will interpret it as a gesture of peace.

"You're back," Kris says, surprised. Monte huffs a laugh.

"No, we're about to take off out the back door," Tommy says. "He said we were just going to the bathroom."

Kris looks dubious. "I thought it was a code to say you were, you know."

"You know?" Tommy mimics. Kris shrugs, a little embarrassed, and Adam pinches Tommy's hip. He says, "Adam wishes."

"Well," Adam says, and makes a grab for him.

Kris laughs like he's supposed to, but on the way home he's weird. He's driving again, says he doesn't like the fact that the driver could eavesdrop if they get a ride. Adam tells him he's retarded, that the drivers don't care. He could explain about the soundproof glass, but that would require effort. Kris will figure it out eventually, he's sure.

"Are you—" Kris starts, and stops.

Adam says, "That's the fourth sentence you've tried in the past two minutes. Spit it out."

"Are you and Tommy together?" Kris blurts out, and then makes a face, embarrassed.

"This. Obviously this was going to come up," Adam sighs. Kris looks over at him. "No, we're not together. We're not involved. We never have been. Any more questions?"

"No," Kris says crankily.

Adam winces. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay," Kris says. "Just don't take your unrequited love issues out on me."

"I don't have issues," Adam defends himself. Kris looks at him incredulously. "Well, I don't," Adam says.

"Oh," Kris says, and is quiet for a long time. Adam's not expecting anything else – what do you say to that, especially if you don't believe it – but right before they pull up to the house he says, "I'm sorry. If it is, or was, or used to be, whatever. An issue, or something. I'm sorry."

Adam says honestly, "It wasn't. We're really good friends, and I stick my tongue down his throat sometimes."

Kris still looks uncertain and Adam gives up. He's pretty sure Kris is one of those people where sex equals an emotional connection, and explaining Tommy is not something Adam wants to try to do.

\---

Friday morning Adam's been booked on _The Today Show_ – it's officially to promote the tour, but they've let open the personal life questions, so he gets to talk about Kris for the first time. Lauer and Vieira are their usual charming selves, asking leading questions and letting Adam say what he wants. It's all very polite and delicate and Adam thinks they're probably as bored as he is, so about halfway through they're asking how long he and Kris have been involved and he says, "Only about six months, so we've been getting a lot of looks for getting engaged. Everyone seems to think it's too soon."

It's like the whole studio is silent for about thirty seconds, and then Vieira sits forward, seemingly genuinely interested for the first time. " _Really_ ," she says, hinting.

Adam doesn't give them anything else, though, and it wraps up quickly enough. Kris is with Jessie in the car, waiting to pick him up. Adam doesn't know how she convinced him to get out of the house, he's so nervous about the meeting the next day. He keeps bugging them to let him go along, but if Kris doesn't immediately say no then Jessie vetoes it.

It sucks.

"So we're dropping you at home and then Beth is meeting with Kris to discuss the upcoming press runs."

"Oh, good," Adam says. "Finally it's your turn."

"I knew you hated me," Kris says miserably.

"You'll survive. And believe me, you'll need it," Jessie says, pushing Adam out of the car.

Kris turns out to need it more than any of them had expected.

"You really are a crap liar," Adam says thoughtfully.

"Yes, congratulations, you were right," Kris says miserably. "Now can we skip the mocking and pretend it never happened?"

"Sure," Adam says equitably. "And it wasn't that bad."

"You think?" Kris asks.

It was. Jessie and Chelsea and the publicists and even Mark thought it was funny when Kris got so tongue-tied and shy that he literally ducked behind Adam, but Adam doesn't think Kris needs to hear about that right now. "I was almost as bad in the beginning," Adam lies instead. He maybe laughs a little on the end of it, though.

Kris moans pathetically. "No, you weren't. I'm horrible. I can't do any more interviews, ever."

"No, you can," Adam says, grinning and patting Kris. "We just won't let them ask you what your favorite lubes and sex toys are, next time."

"Oh my god," Kris says. "Shut up, please."

"I'll just leave you to mope, then," Adam says. "I have to go call everyone I've ever met."

Kris moans at him again as he walks out, face still buried in the couch pillow.

\---

The tour kicks off in Boise. Kris says, "Isn't this a little backwards?"

"Yeah," Adam says, "but we're going to Seattle and then all the way down the west coast, across the west and Midwest, into the south and then along the east coast. The last show's in Boston and then we're flying back down to New York and leaving on the international leg from there. That's pretty short, though, just a month or so in the major European cities."

"Oh," Kris says. "Wow, that's a lot."

"I can't believe you signed on for this without knowing where the tour was going and how long it is," Adam says.

"I know the important parts!" Kris says. "I know I'm flying out of Portland to visit home and then coming back for San Francisco on. And then I'm done once you head overseas."

"Okay," Adam says. "So you're leaving in about four days," and after he'd bothered Kris for over a week to make sure he packed everything.

"Yeah," Kris says. "But I'll get to see your first couple concerts."

"Aren't you lucky," Tommy says, taking a chair on the other side of Adam. He has coffee and Adam grabs for it. Tommy smacks at his hand until he gives up.

Kris shrugs. "I actually am sort of curious."

Adam means to ask Kris what he thinks – he may be the closest thing to an unbiased observer that Adam will ever get – but they come off stage after the second encore and Kris stares at them, following them to the dressing rooms open-mouthed and silent.

"Aw, I think you broke him," Tommy says.

"Uh, Adam," Kris says, ignoring him, only his voice goes high on the tail end and he's still staring.

"Come on," Adam says, pulling Kris into his room and locking the door after them. Everyone in the hall, dancers and all, start making hooting noises at them.

"That was – Adam, I—" Kris stops, waving his hands around.

"Uh huh," Adam says, smiling.

Kris makes a frustrated noise and gives up.

"Oh, come on," Adam says the next day, when Kris is still watching him warily. "You knew I'm a performer." He leans over, reaching for the jelly.

Kris flushes all the way down his neck and leans away.

Interested, Adam watches him fidget and then sits back down, scooting his chair all the way over. "Pass me that, would you?" he asks instead.

Kris grabs it for him and hands it over. He won't meet Adam's eyes, even though Adam's as deliberately irritating as he can be for the rest of breakfast. Adam even manages to sucker him into doing the dishes, which _never_ happens.

That afternoon Adam wrangles Tommy into helping. Kris is sitting at a table backstage with his laptop and Tommy sits across from him, saying, "Does somebody have a crush?" Adam sighs. He was hoping for more subtlety than that.

Folding his hands under his chin, Kris says, "I couldn't help it, you know. You're just so irresistible."

Adam laughs, settling his elbows on Kris' shoulders. Kris ducks down and goes red again. "Are you okay?" Adam asks him.

Tommy says, "I didn't say it was on me."

"Shut up," Kris says.

"Aw, baby," Adam says. Kris levels a glare at somewhere around his shoulder.

Adam spends the rest of the day crowding in Kris' space. Kris totally lets him, even after that night's show when he's all sticky from the stage.

"You're being mean," Tommy says.

"You think I should stop?" Adam asks. Kris is peeking out of the bathroom, where he's been ever since Adam tried to lay his head in his lap.

"No, I think you should jump him and get it over with, but neither of those is going to happen, is it?" Tommy says.

Kris' head darts back in. Adam swears he's going to get Tommy something amazing for Christmas this year, like a pony or a house.

\---

There's fifteen minutes before the opening band finishes and Adam's sprawled over half the couch, watching people argue around him. Kris is watching, too, but he looks more worried. There's been a mix-up with scheduling, they won't be able to make the next city on time or something, and they're debating what Adam can drop without effecting too many other obligations.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Kris asks.

Adam looks over at him questioningly, snagging a bottle of water. Nobody's paying any attention to them.

"The way everyone knows so much about you. I don't mean your secrets, even, just your schedule. It's your life they're talking about, and they list things off like they're bullet points in everybody's planner." Kris shrugs. "It just seems a little impersonal, and these are the people you're actually friends with."

Adam shakes his head. "My life is just bullet points in their calendars. It's their job to arrange what I do all day."

"It would make me uncomfortable," Kris says softly. "Having to let one of them know every time I just felt like sneaking off to sit on a park bench or something."

"But you want to be famous, too," Adam says, confused. "It's part of it."

Kris laughs, shaking his head. "I don’t want to be famous. I definitely never want to be this famous. I just want to release an album. I don't even really care if it sells."

Adam looks around, the techs and coordinators and managers running things so things can run, the security to keep the whack jobs out, the people clustering in every doorway. Everyone's too busy, except them. "I hate to break it to you, but I think you already are."

"Only by association, though. When this is over, I won't be stuck with much of this," Kris says confidently. "I'm too boring."

Adam doesn't have the heart to correct him. "Besides," he says lightly. "I'm not friends with all of them. I'm friends with some of them, and friendly with others. I do hate some of them."

"Really?" Kris asks, interested. "Who?"

"See that guy over there? Middle-aged and balding? He's the head lighting guy." Adam points to him. "We cannot stand each other."

"Don't you have to work together a lot?" Kris asks.

"We'd probably hate each other less if we didn't," Adam admits. "I'm a very demanding person," he elbows Kris when he laughs, "and he's always telling me that they can't do this or that because of things like power requirements and _laws_. It's very disappointing."

"I can imagine," Kris says dryly. "How horrible for you."

\---

"I'll drive with you to the airport," Adam volunteers, and climbs into the cab before Kris can shut the door.

"You really don't have to," Kris says weakly, but it's already pulling away from the curb. "It's not like you can get into the airport. You can't go past the baggage check."

"I'll wait with you in line," Adam volunteers.

"I'm not checking bags," Kris says, "and I checked in online."

"No lines," Adam says.

"Nope," Kris says.

"I can't belive you're going home for your birthday," Adam says, "instead of spending it here with us."

"I need to see my family sometime, don't you think?" Kris says. "And my birthday's a good reason.

"Our party would be better," Adam says.

Kris climbs out of the cab, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure it would be."

Adam says, "And you'll be deprived of proper birthday spankings."

"I'm depressed, believe me," Kris says. "No, you're not coming in to the airport. I want to be able to actually _get_ home, thanks."

"It's so sweet that you think I could stop air traffic," Adam says. He grabs Kris' bag and keeps it away from him. "No, you can't leave."

Kris sighs. "I'm going to miss my flight."

"Oh, no," Adam says. "That's incentive to give it back."

"Do I need to bribe you or something?" Kris asks.

"Absolutely," Adam says raptly. "How about a kiss?"

Smiling, Kris says, "I knew I should've brought Tommy along."

"You're very cruel," Adam says, half-serious, and lets Kris go.

\---

Kris is gone for three weeks. It's an _eternity_. Tommy makes fun of Adam every day for moping, and he's not moping, thanks a lot, he's just feeling quiet today, and you all in the corner can stop snickering any time.

Then Kris comes back, right on schedule, and he's calm and relaxed and Adam swears he's picked up a little bit of an accent. Adam spends the all afternoon trying to get him to say typical southern phrases that Adam gets off the Internet. Kris won't do it – he even goes so far as to say they aren't actual sayings, that he's never heard them before. Adam tells him he could just say no, he doesn't have to lie to get out of it.

Beth calls after that night's show and Adam has to sit through half an hour of yelling about needing to be _convincing_ , since apparently a three-week absence is the same as a divorce as far as a public is concerned. Adam agrees to everything she says and puts her on speaker so Kris, Tommy, and everyone else that wanders by can get the benefit of the tirade, too.

"Adam, Kris," she finally sighs. "If you don't listen to anything else, please listen to this. You're halfway done, the hard part's over. Please just keep up appearances and don't let anything blow up in our faces."

"Yeah, okay," Adam says, feeling vaguely guilty. She's the nicest publicist he's ever met, anyway, so he probably wants to keep her.

\---

In the end, though, when the media shit storm arrives it turns out not to be Adam's fault at all. They're in San Francisco when it hits, two days and two shows from home and Adam is trying his best not to let Kris in on the fact that his family is absolutely going to meet them there, because his mother is an evil, manipulative woman who will not do what Adam wants which is for her to stay far, far away from Kris and avoid doing any damage to Adam's reputation, relationship with Kris, or everlasting happiness.

"You're being melodramatic," his mother sighs.

"I'm being serious!" he says, but she's already not listening, telling him about his brother and – Adam's not sure, but he thinks that's a sewing machine in the background.

The article is completely reputable, which sucks – there's no way they can pass it off as a rumor. It's a tell-all about Kris, and when a stony-faced publicist hands it to him Adam has fun, at first, reading about his childhood and looking at some truly embarrassing photos. Then it gets to the high school years, and wow, Kris is so much fucking trouble.  
   
"You're involved with someone else," Adam says lowly, once he's cornered him. Everyone's been looking for him for almost an hour, since the news first spread, but he went into hiding beforehand – someone tipped him off. Adam would put his money on Chelsea.

"There are different definitions of involved," Kris protests weakly.

Adam nods. "This particular one meaning _already married_."

"We're separated, though," Kris says. "Legally and everything."  
   
"Yeah, really?" Adam snorts, and waits. Kris still hasn't tried to explain by the time Adam has to go onstage.

They're still not speaking when they head to a meeting with the publicity team that's going frantic trying to control this. The car ride over is silent and very awkward, and Adam's glad it's one of Jessie's days – Chelsea would've been asking Kris questions and laughing about it all.

The first half hour is Kris getting yelled at. Adam finally gets fed up and steps in after they start threatening to end the agreement, which they don't actually have the power to do as far as Adam is concerned.

"And it's not like he's actually screwed anything up. It's just a slightly more unconventional now. Lay the fuck off and deal with it."

"They haven't even begun the process of divorce. This makes you both adulterers, so far as the public is concerned," Beth waves her hands around. "Do you understand? This is bad, Adam, it's not just scandalous – it's controversial."

"Yeah, I get it. But it doesn't matter. We can't break it off now, it would make it look like I didn't know what was going on. Kris would look like the bad guy." Beth blinks and a couple people start murmuring. Adam points at them all. "And we're not doing that, so don't even fucking start."

"There's no other way to spin this. It makes you look like you're engaged to a bigamist."

"So we tell them that my wife and I are about to get divorced. Katy will agree to back up the story, as long as you can keep them from bothering her too much?" Kris suggests hesitantly. "It's not like we've announced a date for the wedding, so there's no way anyone could be sure I'd still be married when we do eventually do it. Some people stay engaged for years."

"Good," Adam says. "Do that."

He hauls Kris out before they can argue. The hallway's empty, so Adam asks Kris, "Do you need to call her?"

"Yeah," Kris says, "but I also need to get the divorce papers drawn up. Do you think Jessie could help?"

"Mark knows lots of good lawyers. He's been divorced three times," Adam says absently. "Are you sure, though? You don't have to go through with a divorce just for this."

Kris gives him a look. "I'm not doing it because of all this. It's just good motivation to finally get things done, you know?"

Adam shrugs. He doesn't, not really.

"We've been separated for two years. We got married right out of high school, and it turns out we wanted very different things, so we fought. She stayed back in Arkansas when I came out here, and that was basically it. She's seeing someone else, now. She won't mind." Kris smiles thinly. "The guy was my best friend in high school."

"I'm sorry," Adam says.

"Nah," Kris says. "I'm happy for them."

"It still sucks to be replaced, though," Adam says, because he does know about that.

\---

The publicists lay off Kris after that, but the reporters pick it up. It's normally bad, but they have to double security as they head back to Los Angeles. It should be settling down again, stories getting old when all the interviewer gets is a repeat of the standard, "Still traveling with us, still engaged, still waiting for a divorce, still not bothered by any of it, want to see a baby picture?" answers.

And then they come home for two shows and a few days' break and someone on Adam's team leaks the whole story. It goes from hectic to completely fucked overnight, and when Beth discovers it was Evan it doesn't really matter at that point. There's no proof, but it doesn't matter – there's not really proof they _are_ in love, either.

They're being escorted through the after show crowds to the limo that will take them back to Adam's house and they're crowded close together. Kris looks miserable, stiffly cheerful and not talking to anyone that isn't a reporter, and a brunette chick gets closer than the rest of them and asks Kris how his traditional southern family feels about this charade, as if that matters at all. Adam doesn't know how to fix any of this, so he tells Kris he's probably free to go, if he wants: at least the tour's getting tons of publicity, even if it's not the type everyone first intended.

Kris pulls back a little to look at him, face set, and Adam frowns in confusion. Then Kris fucks everything six ways to Sunday as he grabs Adam's shoulders, stretches up, and gives him the worst, most enthusiastic kiss he's ever gotten. Adam starts laughing halfway through and Kris accidentally bites his tongue hard enough he might be bleeding and they're flailing everywhere and people are screaming all around them. It may be the most fun Adam's ever had.

Setting back down on his feet, bright red and determined, Kris looks the reporter right in the eye and says, "What do you think now?"

It takes Adam most of the ride home to stop laughing. "Well, it might not convince them but it will certainly confuse everyone." He stops to check his phone. Beth will be thrilled when she finds out.

Kris stares out the window, ignoring Adam. He's still all withdrawn and awkward when they get home and Adam tries to talk over it, until Kris turns to the stairs and literally starts walking away.

"What the hell do you want?" Adam snaps. "I told you you're free to go, you kiss me, which by the way is the best way of guaranteeing you'll stay tangled up in all this. Then you ignore me, pissed about something, though who the fuck knows what, since you're never going to say what it is."

Kris turns around, glaring at him. "I kiss you and you make it into a joke! What do you think is wrong?"

Adam freezes for maybe half a second, completely shocked. He had no idea. It's long enough for Kris to make a face and get to the top of the stairs, and then Adam's mouth catches up and he says, "Really? Wow, _baby_ ," and shoves him back against the wall. Kris is a good kisser, lets Adam lick into his mouth and makes breathy noises when Adam digs fingers into his hips.

When Kris sort of leans towards Adam's room it's clear enough permission, but Adam pulls back long enough to say, "No, yours," and push him down the hall.

Tilting his head away just enough to deter Adam, Kris asks, sounding a little suspicious, "Why?"

"Have you _felt_ your sheets?" Adam asks incredulously, giving up kissing for the moment.

"I guess," Kris says uncertainly. "They're nice? Aren't yours, though?"

"No," Adam snorts. "Jessie likes you more than me, apparently." He nudges Kris down the hall again.

"So why don't you buy your own sheets?" Kris says slowly, like presenting a new idea.

"Seriously?" Adam says derisively, and also, "Shut up."

He does, actually, a lot more than Adam prefers. He likes more than the occasional moan but he figures they can work on that. Kris gets the door open and Adam pushes him back towards the bed, keeping a wary eye out for guitars and other shit to trip over. Kris gets to the edge of the bed and grabs the hem of his shirt before he stops, hesitating.

"No," Adam says, "No hesitating now. I'll deal with the morning-after regrets; I do not do second thoughts bullshit."

"You're so understanding," Kris tries to tease, but he's staring down at his fingers and twitching.

"I can be naked first," Adam volunteers.

"Yeah, I don't know that that'll help so much," Kris says. "Thanks for the offer, though."

Adam shakes his head chidingly and gets his shirt over his head. Kris stares at him inadvertently and goes easily when Adam pushes him to sit. Kneeling in front of him, Adam grabs the hem of his shirt and says, "Okay?"

"Well," Kris says, smiling a little, "If you insist."

"You're so selfless," Adam teases gently, nosing into his neck.

Kris goes with him easy, shoes and pants and pillows all shoved to the floor, and Kris gets all squirmy when Adam licks at his hip and presses fingers behind his knees and sucks down his cock. He makes lots of encouraging noises and says Adam's name over and over, almost soundless, and curls his feet around to press against Adam's legs and wiggle impatiently.

He whines when he comes and Adam swallows easily, licking up him one more time to watch him twitch lazily. He's wrecked, all wide-blown eyes and incoherency, and Adam fits against his hip, sliding slowly until Kris reaches for him, clumsy and laughing and no doubts at all

Adam drags him up under the covers, after, snuggling into the sheets – so much better than his – and dragging Kris over, protesting. He doesn't let him scoot away, either, telling him sternly that he can push all the covers off if he's so hot. Kris subsides, sighing, but Adam peeks an eye open and he's totally smiling.

"Adam?" Kris asks a couple minutes later, half asleep.

"Hmur?" Adam says.

"How did you know how my sheets feel?"

\---

It's like a miracle, but the rumors are gone by the next day, Evan's interview pretty much assumed false after Kris' outburst. Adam takes the opportunity to molest Kris whenever he permits it anyway, in public and all, and the publicity team says, "Hey, why not?" because barely-appropriate photos always sell tabloids, and Adam and Kris' story includes a nice, complicated back story with a happy ending, too.

The last couple months of the tour are, comparatively, uneventful. Tommy freaks out when his girlfriend says she's knocked up but it turns out to be a false alarm, so everyone gives him onesies and diapers and bottles, _just in case_ , and they throw a couple of fake baby showers just to take advantage of the situation.

When they go through Arkansas Adam bugs Kris – he wants to meet his family.

"That's not a good idea," Kris says.

"Why not?" Adam says, pressing closer insistently.

"Because they think this is all fake," Kris says, letting Adam back him into a corner. "And they're fine with it, but I don't want to deal with the guilt my mother will throw at me when I explain that I lied to her. It's easier over the phone."

"Yeah," Adam says, "My mom, too. But are you sure you aren't ashamed of me?"

He's only teasing but Kris tangles fingers in his hair and says, painfully sincere, "No, never," and kisses him for five minutes straight. "I want you to meet them soon, though. I think they'll like you."

So everyone's happy for the remaining months of tour. Adam can't actually say this for certain – he assumes there's some sound tech or intern or somebody who doesn't have a perfect life, but he doesn't know about it, and outside of Kris and his immediate bandmates he's not sure he'd care. That makes him a horrible person, he's fully aware, but then he's back to the not caring.

But suddenly they're in Philadelphia, four concerts before Adam's in Europe and Kris' deal is up and Beth tells them, "So, you two can break it off whenever you want, now. We have a couple scripts and announcements written up, pick which ones you like."

The worse part about the next couple of days, beyond the sickening suspicion that Adam's developing that Kris is actually planning on leaving, is that he and Kris are suddenly so awkward with each other that they can barely stay in the same room. Nobody else will keep either of them company – "Because you're both acting like depressed bitches," Tommy says. "I feel like a depressed bitch," Adam responds miserably. "So does Kris," says Tommy. "Here's an idea, you could tell each other." – so they sit on opposite ends of the bus and try not to meet each other's eyes.

At the next hotel they're faxed a whole bunch of forms – lists of stories and sound bites to release regarding their official break up, and tons of forms for Kris to sign that solidify his position as an official artist on the label, along with more than a tree's worth of privacy contracts and waivers. Kris looks at the stacks and sighs, but he grabs a pen and sits down so Adam doesn't have any choice but to start going through them with him.

"No," Adam says firmly

"No," Kris says flatly. "You aren't letting the press think you've cheated on me."

"It's the most believable one," Adam points out. "It just means I revert to how I was before."

"Exactly," Kris says, crossing his arms. "And undoing anything we've managed to do these past months in the process."

"It's also the most plausible one," Adam says meanly. Kris shuts up, looking away, and Adam presses on. "I'm on tour over in Europe, you stay over here, a week in and I've slept with a couple groupies, you're pissed, I'm unapologetic, engagement over. It's simple."

"Wow," Kris says. "You sound pretty familiar with it. Been considering this for a while?"

If Kris had sounded jealous Adam wouldn't have said it. But he didn't so Adam did, because he didn't know what else to do. "I'm pretty familiar with cheating."

"Right," Kris says blankly. "Fine, have it your way. By the way, my flight to California leaves on Thursday. The movers should have all my stuff out of your house by the time I get back."

He walks out, and Adam calls Beth to tell her their decision.

"Just, are you sure you both understand?" Beth asks, worried. "You can't say anything that will lead to suspicion before Adam's in Europe. And once you're done you can't be seen going out, at least for a while. I know you're friends so it might be difficult, but hold off."

"Yeah, that won't be a problem," Adam says.

\---

Kris wakes Adam up the morning before he leaves and says, "I'm going to be out of here after today, so I probably don't really have anything to lose, so I've sort of got to tell you that I'm maybe kind of in love with you and I don't want to fake-end our fake-relationship."

And Adam, still slow with sleep, says, "Me, too. Only without all the qualifiers, and maybe a few more absolutes."

Kris blinks for a minute and then makes a happy noise and crawls into bed with him, and then somehow they miss it when the PA comes for Kris and his stuff.

One month later:

Beth figures out something's going on when Adam gets back from Europe and there are still no rumors about a break up.

"Yeah, we've decided we're in for the long haul," Adam says to his phone, yawning. Jet lag's a bitch.

She's quiet for a long while and he says, "If you have a problem with that—"

"No," she says. "I think it's great, on a lot of levels. Congratulations. Just," she sighs, frustrated. "Promise me you'll actually get married when Kris' divorce goes through? It'll save a lot of headaches later, I think."

"Well, damn," Adam says, "Guess I'm going to have to propose now, huh?"

She laughs, hanging up.

Kris looks over from the driver's seat, raising an eyebrow. "Got to ask my daddy, first," he drawls.

  
Alternate ending:

"You're totally right," Kris says, plucking at Adam's comforter. "My sheets are much nicer."

"Uh huh," Adam says, "Totally not fair."

"But your bed's bigger," Kris continues.

"Yeah," Adam says. "Because my room's bigger."

"Our room," Kris corrects him. Adam looks at him and Kris smiles. "I'll take you shopping for better sheets."

End.  



End file.
